


Traditions

by allofuswithwings



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Christmas, Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:16:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4944682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam decorates his house for midwinter, and Frodo gets introduced to one particular type of hanging garland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of some multi-fandom drabbles I did for Christmas a couple of years ago. It was published back then on Livejournal, just moving it over to AO3 now.

~

 

There was more to Samwise than met the eye.  Frodo had learnt that much on their journey together.

 

But even now, back home in the Shire, he was still occasionally taken by surprise.

 

Sam had invited him around for a midwinter supper, just the two of them.  They’d already filled themselves with mincemeat pies and candied fruits, and were now retired by the hearth with their spiced wine.

 

Frodo looked around, admiring Sam’s handiwork.  The room was adorned with bunches of seasonal herbs tied with shining ribbon; bright green wreaths hung upon doors and over the fireplace; and glossy springs of holly with their brilliant red berries encircled glowing candles in every corner.  He didn’t remember Sam being so enthusiastic about the season before.

 

“Your house looks lovely, Sam,” he commented.  “I didn’t know you enjoyed winter so much.”

 

Sam gave a soft smile, his head bowing in appreciation.

 

“I didn’t used to.  And certainly not when we was away.”

 

He went quiet for a few moments, then shook his head as though to clear the bad memories.  The fog lifted and he smile again.

 

“But I been reading up on the Shire’s traditions,” he continued.  “And those of other folks, both near and far.  I do like to have an excuse to celebrate, so I thought I’d put in a bit more effort for midwinter this year.  I’m glad you like it.”

 

Frodo noted some garlands of unfamiliar plants here and there, and wondered how long Sam had been preparing for this.  His eyes travelled up to a small piece of greenery suspended from the ceiling just above where they were sitting.  Frodo gestured.

 

“What’s this one, Sam?” he asked.  “I don’t recognise it.”

 

Sam’s expression was strangely abashed.

 

“Ah, that one’s from the Elves,” he explained.  “What I mean to say is, they told me of it, of their lore and traditions.  It doesn’t grow around here, so I had to go on a bit of a trip to find some.  It’s called mistletoe.”

 

Frodo’s eyes remained trained on it, and he furrowed his brow.

 

“Why is it up there, on its own like that?”

 

His eyes came back down to Sam.

 

“Well, that’s part of the tradition, Mister Frodo.  It’s hung up on the ceiling so folks can sit or stand under it.”

 

“For luck?” Frodo asked.

 

“Not quite.  I’ll show you if you like?”

 

Unsuspecting, Frodo nodded.

 

He was surprised when Sam leaned across and pressed his lips against Frodo’s cheek, soft but sure.  When Sam pulled back he was blushing.  Frodo found he was too.

 

“Begging your pardon, sir, but that’s the tradition,” Sam murmured.

 

Frodo stared at Sam, his eyes bright and glossy in the candlelight.  He could feel emotions starting to roil inside his chest.

 

“I see,” he replied, his voice quiet.  “And you couldn’t have just told me, rather than showing?”

 

Sam looked down, his hands starting to fidget.  Then his brows came together and his eyes back up, his gaze determined.

 

“Aye, I could have.  Only I didn’t want to.  I wanted to do that instead, and I ain’t gonna pretend that I didn’t.”

 

There were a few more long moments of silence, the two of them staring one another down, and then Frodo’s face split into a grin.  Sam’s expression collapsed into relief and he gave shy smile.

 

“You had me worried there for a minute,” Sam sighed.  “I thought you were right cross with me.”

 

Frodo shook his head, his gaze affectionate.

 

“Not at all, my dear Sam, only surprised,” he said.  “And ashamed that I did not do this myself a much longer time ago.”

 

Sam’s brow furrowed.

 

“How do you mean, Mister Frodo?”

 

“I mean this, Sam.”

 

Frodo leaned back in and pressed a kiss to Sam’s lips, his fingers going into the golden curls behind his head.

 

For a moment, Frodo feared he’d taken it too far, Sam frozen in place.

 

Then he felt Sam’s warm hands come up to cup his cheeks, and a smile curled against his lips.

 

Frodo pulled back to glance up at the mischievous white berries dangling from the ceiling, before Sam pressed him back into the seat and sealed their mouths again.

 

*


End file.
